Homeless and Sandstone

Last night I was in San Diego. We were staying on the beach and in the back of the hotel is a gate with a coded lock. The code is of general knowledge to all guests, except for me. There could be a number of reasons for these kinds of circumstances, they seem to be of familiar occurrence for me, but this isn’t the right time to talk about that. So I’m standing at this back gate and I’m trying to decide if I should continue on and worry about the entry code later or if I should walk way back up to my room to get the information that I needed. Standing maybe ten steps in front of me, plus two to the right, was a lady. At first I thought she was one of the select few privileged enough to have the required information that I had been exluded from. That being the access code for the back gate, at least at the time. I asked her if she knew what it was and she said that she didn’t. So naturally I said fuck it and decided to worry about getting back in at a later time. I stepped out letting the gate door slam, and my unhelpful acquaintance instead offered her knowledge that my recent action will not allow me to reenter the gate just as I had exited. I was pretty much aware of that fact the second my foot hit bottom step and coincidently enough, that is exactly what I intended on happening. I thanked her for the alert anyway and proceeded to take the ten steps across the sidewalk to her general area, not because I was hoping to ask another question, but because it was on the way to the beach. It wasn’t until I got a bit closer that I realized she was homeless. She was probably in her early forties and I had the impression she was very pretty at one time. She talked with drawn out syllables, similar to what I’d expect a drunken surfer to sound like and her hair was a short sandstone. She was friendly and interested in casual details. Things such as why you don’t see diving boards on pools anymore or why I had two bracelets on the same wrist. I was curious about her, especially with the events leading to her standing by the beach with four bags, all different colors, and an old bicycle. I didn’t ask her any of those things so I can’t tell you who she is. Just homeless with sandstone hair and had at one point in her life gotten more attention than she gets now. Just then a man and his girlfriend approached the gate and proceed to apply the knowledge they had regarding the gate access code. I wasn’t envious or anything but I wanted to know the code too so I hollered a bunch of words that I thought would come off as friendly and serve to let them know what I wanted. The guy was apprehensive and asked my room number as well as providing the simple steps he took in order to attain the information before exiting the premises. I agreeded that those actions, such as asking the clerk, were simple and had put him in a better position than I was in at the time. Either way he approached me face to face, shot a glance at the sandstone and detail orientated lady and then whispered the code to me while covering his mouth. I thanked him for it, felt bad for the lady. She wasn’t of any harm and seemed more interested in migrating along then she was with another hotel. Especially one that didn't have a diving board at the pool. I’m not sure if she was aware of the exclusion, but it was unessecary. The guy left and I fineshed up the conversation with the homeless lady. I wanted to give her something, but didn’t have anything. She didn’t ask for anything either. I wanted to know things about her and I sure as hell wouldn’t have cared if she was given the code as well. Sometimes people get the things they need in life and sometimes those people are not you. Anyway, in the end I walked out to where the sand was washing back and forth. Once I go there I stood still and did that thing where you let the water suck the sand from around your feet and you feel like your moving while sinking. That was fun.

~Rolligun

Hey Jack Kerouac

C’mon on Jack….were takin off. I've spent the last three weeks bouncing from town to town visiting friends and family. It’s been a bit exhausting not being able to stay in one spot, but I think your use to that. I've been traveling on a bike with back pack and an Army Luandry bag full of clothes. The long highway drives have been a drag, but the country roads make up for it. I haven’t been able to write for the last three weeks and you for the last 37 years, but hopefully that will all change. You missed the welcome back parade. I’m not much for celebrations and all, but I have to admit that rolling into town on a bus to people waving American flags while welcoming you back from the sidewalk was a cool feeling. But as I said, it’s time to go again. We’ll be using planes, rental autos, trains, motorcycles and maybe your favorite, a good ole fashion hitch. The first trip is a quick little jaunt out west to Los Angeles, San Francisco, Seattle, something Wyoming, then Denver and back “home.” We are meeting a friend out there who will be driving up the coast and back east. This is the little trip, but you’ll have to pack fast, our flight to L.A. takes off in five hours. Apparently you can’t bring your flask along, or your toothpaste, but that’s anothher deal. Anyway, if I remember correctly, you’ve always been a light packer with little to hold you back. We’ll be back about Labor Day weekend and will probably rent a car to get the twin cities and see some old college friends. One of them acquired a wife and a mortgage while we were gone while the other has managed to cut his hair. Then we’ll part ways for about ten days, till September 13, which is when we’ll meet up again and catch a flight to Barcelona. I was thinking something like four weeks, but it’s starting to look more like six or seven. We have London, Amsterdam, Ibiza, Oktoberfest (munich), Rome and Prague on the agenda. I’m looking forward to the travel and maybe finding something new. I’ve been answering the same questions over and over for the last three weeks, with all the Army one’s ending with simplest description of what I did. I’m fine with that, but the only question that bothers me a bit is when everyone asks “so how does it feel to be back?” They always answer it for me, saying something like “it must be such relief” or “you must be so excited” but that’s not how I feel. I don’t feel much of anything, but I’m not worried about that, I simply agree and wait for the next question. In any case the last three weeks have been good, I’ve seen lot’s of people that I’ve missed and been catching up on as much as I can. But there’s something about travel that I’m hoping for. I’m not sure what it is, but that’s why I’m asking you to go. Drinking, traveling, writing and counter culture has always been your thing, so that’s what will do.

Pack your bags Jack, we got places to go!

~Rolligun

A little HNT et. al.

I've been meaning to get out a quick little post and catch up with all my favorite bloggers (i.e. the one's that comment here) but it's quite hard given my current lifestyle. More to come on that later. In the mean time here is a few photos I wish to spit out!

(I've mentioned a long time ago that I use to have my neck pierced before I left. Getting it redone was one of the first things I did, it takes FOREVER to heal. Anyhow, I'm pretty much done with the body art thing and my four piericings are down to just this one, but I still some holes open. I plan to keep it for the rest of my days. Either way it's a confusing piericing to most people, so here's a picture of my neck. I was instructed to use it as an HNT)

Other photos include my old home, how I travel for "visiting" as they say and of course my favorite soul in the world!

~Rolligun